


Hollow is a creep

by Anonymous



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Can you tell?, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hollow is a creep, I hate myself, I have Headcanons about wyrm biology and it's obvious, Incest, Incest is very bad I do not condone it, Intersex Hollow and TPK, Multi, No beta we die like TPK, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Oviposition, Parent/Child Incest, Radiance is a bad person radiance stans dni, Somnophilia, did I use a Shakespearean translator for the Radiance? perhaps, even though he initaties it TPK does NOT consent he's merely responding to THK, i wrote this in one go, just to be clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 08:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Hollow loves their father, though they would never admit it. Some might say they love their father a little too much.
Relationships: The Pale King/The Hollow Knight, The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight), The Radiance/The Hollow Knight
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15
Collections: Anonymous





	1. masturbation

There. Their father laid peacefully on his bed. Most bugs in Hallownest slept on heated rocks, like the one provided for them, but Father chose instead to sleep on a soft cushion. Their eyes crinkled into a smile as they dragged their sight down the wyrm’s body. The chitin covering his long tail was thin to the point of being translucent. Hollow should almost see his muscles flutter and the lifeblood pulse through his veins. Despite that, the natural armor was as strong as pale ore. If anyone tried to take him in a fight, Father could easily eviscerate them with his claws. But Father preferred more elegant methods, skewering his enemies with large nails made of soul. 

Father still refused to spar with them. He had expanded their training from just Isma to Ogrim and Dryya, and they were on a level playing field with the three now, if they do say so themself. And yet, he still held back, choosing instead to try and increase their control of solid soul. Don’t get them wrong, they appreciated any time spent with Father, but… they want to spar with the strongest being in Hallownest. Perhaps he’s worried about hurting them? That he is simply too powerful for them? That in the instant they drew their nail, he would have them pinned to the floor by their throat, his long, deadly claws wrapped around their neck, liquid void soaking the tips.

The thought of that… being so thoroughly overpowered… instead of making them feel cold and trapped like when they imagined the Radiance doing so, they felt warm. Their thorax heaved with deep breaths they didn’t need to take, as if they had just partook in a long, exhausting, fight. The heat pooled in their lower abdomen, making them shuffle their legs closer together. Almost unconsciously, their claws dragged over their shell as their hand drifted downward. Their eyes greedily raked over Father’s sleeping form, taking in the slumbering god in the dim light of a lumafly lantern. The bare shell itself glowed with soul and power, and Hollow almost hated Father’s robes for covering up more of the pure white chitin.

Having reached their crotch, their claws felt slick. Looking down, they couldn’t see anything, as the light was dim, and the matte of their shell stubbornly refused to reflect light. However, they felt as if they had just dipped their claws into the liquid void their body is made of. This was bad. They didn’t realize they had a wound, but really, if they did, they would have been dripping liquid void onto the halls of the White Palace all day. And when their fingers brushed the opening, or even hesitantly dipped inside, they felt sparks shoot up their body, causing every non-existent muscle in their body to momentarily clench, instead of the dull pain they’d expect from a wound. So they did it again. And again. 

They pushed the tips of their claws inside more, reveling in the feeling. It felt almost as good as when Father praised them. When they got to their first knuckle, they brushed against something hard. It flexed a little as a shiver stole up their back. It felt good as they slipped more of their hand into the pocket, palming the strange appendage. As good as stroking it felt, they were still curious about this new compartment that had opened up inside of them. They continued their journey, questing fingers brushing against walls causing sparks to fizzle about in their shell. It just seemed like it went on forever, with no end in sight. They stared at where their hand breached their body. Now, the not-wound bulged around the widest part of their hand, and each time their palm brushed against the appendage, it felt like electric lumaflies were trapped inside their shell.

They pulled their hand out further and continued stroking the hardness. Their chest heaved with exertion as they flicked their thumb over the head of the appendage and  _ oh _ \- they closed their eyes and trembled in the throes of pleasure. They reached their pinky back into the hole, and found a spongy knot at the base of the hardness, and poked it once, and then they were gone. Their eyes would have rolled into the back of their head if they could, and their vision seemed to blank out. Their cloak rustling as they trembled against this onslaught of feelings was the only sound audible in the room. 

Slowly, they came down and collected themself, realizing at some point they fell to the floor. They felt oddly tired- but, well, there will be plenty of time to sleep in the Black Egg. For now, they simply wanted to stare at Father under the pretense of guarding, memorizing his body for when they will see him no more.


	2. Taking advantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a goddamn horny bastard why did I fucking write this. This is my first smut too like why incest?

“... Hollow, would you help me?” Father grumbled, voice thick with fatigue. They moved to help him, internally gleeful. They loved him like this, almost helpless and dependent on them to ferry him to his bed and make sure he eats. Of course, Father being healthier and sleeping when he needed to would be great, but they can’t have everything.

Their dexterous fingers made quick work of the buttons holding together their father’s robe, though their claws were clumsy with inexperience. Father leaned heavily on them, two pairs of hands on their shoulders and the other on their upper arms, virtually asleep already. Good. Father needed the sleep, of course, but the sooner he was unconscious the sooner they could ...observe him.

By the time the long robe slipped off the wyrm’s body and onto the floor, Father was asleep, letting out adorable little grumbles. They picked him up and deposited him gently onto the comfortable mattress. They moved to pull away, but stopped. Would Father mind if they slipped in bed with him? Not to sleep, of course. But would he even care if he woke up curled around Hollow? He didn’t blink twice as their nightly vigils brought them ever closer to the foot of the bed, to where they loomed over the god as he slept. His hands are practically wrapped around them! They want to feel the warmth of his lifeblood, the coolness of the soul that leaks from his hide.

Hesitantly, they get onto the bed, first one leg, then the other. The mattress barely dips under their negligible weight as they move to sit astride their father. His hands slip from their shoulders, lax with sleep, but they pay it no mind. Their mind is too busy greedily drinking in the sight of the wyrm’s bare body. It’s something they consider a luxury, as the Pale King is usually asleep by the time they reach his bedroom, and there is no way they would take off his clothes. No, that would be taking initiative. 

While their mind is busy with the glowing chitin, their arms raise, dragging claws lightly down Father’s front. His shell is perfectly smooth, which they knew, but it’s different actually feeling it with their claws. They lightly trace each joint in the armor before moving on to the next one, until they’ve reached their own crotch, already open and ready. They elect to ignore it for now, busy with their father’s body. The pads of their fingers brush again against a particular joint, which had felt odd compared to the rest. Craning their head to look closer, they can see an almost invisible line in the plate of chitin. They drag the tips of their claws against it again, and again, and again, until it gives way under their hands. The void inside them quickens as they glimpse bright blue lifeblood.

Father stirs in his sleep, grumbling a bit and shifting his head. They freeze, as the seconds tick by like agonizing minutes. Thankfully, their father sleeps on, unaware of what Hollow is doing. They relax, and turn their attention to the slit. They dip their fingers in it, and feel warmth and slick. Their body pulls in the soul that was in the liquid, but their claws come out slick and slightly white. Boldened, they push their fingers further in, encountering a hardness that lazily curls around their fingers. Oh, this must be the same as what is in their own crotch! It makes sense, he did contribute half of their genetics after all. They push their fingers in, wrapping around the length, remembering how good that feels for them.

Looking down, they can see that their own appendage-thing has breached their slit, but they turn their attention back to Father. His pleasure comes first. They tug, and stroke, thumb the tip and poke the base, until the head of the… tentacle? Yeah, they’ll call it that. Until the bright blue head of the tentacle emerged from the wyrm’s body. They continue, determined to get the full length of it out. They couldn’t tell you how long it took them, but finally, they could see that spongy thing that felt extra good at the base. Their tentacle is also fully out, but they pay it no mind. Or… they think back to that bottomless tunnel. The tentacles feel good being wrapped around by fingers, so it would also feel good inside a body, right? The thought elicits a full body shiver as they imagine their tentacle where their fingers had been, inside the slick, wet warmth of Father’s slit. 

They drag their body up towards the slit, hesitant with inexperience. Slowly they guide the tentacle in, and…  _ ah _ . Their body quakes as the tentacle brushes against the fleshy bit as it slides in, each twitch sending shockwaves up their back. Their father is fully lax beneath them as void meets chitin. Panting, they let themself relax. Their crotch is almost unconsciously canting to and for, rubbing against the smooth armor. The motion jostles the tentacle inside of them, and it feels heavenly. But no, Father’s pleasure comes first. Rubbing it up and down felt good, so…. They look down, and place their hands on Father’s body for stability. They move up- and panic as the tentacle almost slips out, making them slam back down. But that felt good. They do it again, and again… until their hips are canting in a natural rhythm, head thrown back in pleasure as their chest heaves with unnecessary breaths.

The only sound is their cloak rustling, Father’s soft breaths, and the muted sound of void hitting chitin over and over. The tentacle seems to get more lively, twitching more often and twitching whenever it bottoms out. They couldn’t tell how long they’d been at this, if the White Palace was already bustling with couriers and manservants wondering where their king was.

Just as they’re about to peak, Father bucks up underneath them, startling them with wild movement. They freeze, and unconsciously clench down upon the tentacle as something odd begins to happen. They feel small marble-like things leave the appendage and try to travel deeper into their slit. Gravity keeps them piled up against the head, the amount growing larger and only being kept from spilling out by their muscles. Father’s eyes don’t open, so they let themself cautiously relax and pay attention to what’s happening. The tiny spheres seemed to be mostly organic, though they contained a decent amount of soul and lifeblood. They can feel the void, ever-hungry, already starting to absorb them as they keep coming. They’re too tired to keep upright as the wyrm relaxes back into the bed, falling onto his chest. The muscles in their abdomen relax, and they can feel the orbs, jostled by the sudden movement, disperse in their body. The Pale King’s tentacle slips out of them, and though they feel a sense of loss, they can’t help but think it is for the better. They don’t know how Father would react to waking up with them joined. Sleep tugs at their mind, as heavy a temptation as it had been during their metamorphosis, and they are forced to succumb.

When they first wake up, they notice the loss of warmth. The bed still feels warm, so Father couldn’t have woken up long ago. They turn over to see their father examining something closely in his claws, but before they can make out what it is, his head snaps up to look at them.

“Ah, Hollow!” His voice sounds tight… and artificially chipper. Is… is he nervous? Why? He’s the Pale King, he is all powerful! “Were you asleep all last night?”

Slowly, they nod, confused as to why Father is acting so strange.

“Great!” He says, voice still strangled, and quickly shrugs on his robe, buttoning it up with efficient fingers.

“Now, come along Hollow, we have a lot on our plate today- oh my, your cloak is all messed up!” They relax as their father fusses over smoothing out their cloak. This is how he should act.


	3. Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking hate myself. why can't I fantasize about vanilla stuff like all the other virgins.  
> Yes I'm disgusted by what I wrote. Yes I got off to it. Yes we exist.

“I cannot believe they’re really going through with this.” Father sounds oddly dejected as he poked as his gruz eggs. Hollow felt their eyes narrow. Father had skipped lunch after receiving that memo from Lurien, so he should eat all of his dinner. Hollow doesn’t want to use their newfound height to loom menacingly over him with the half-eaten plate of food.

“It will be good for morale,” said Mother, “the infection has turned everyday life upside-down for everyone, and Wyrmtide will give people a sense of normalcy. Besides, the festival is fun!”

“For you, maybe. Why does it even need to last five days?!”

“It’s a celebration of your rebirth- you are usually much more… gracious about this. What is wrong, darling?”

Father sighs, and sets down his fork. “I… we do not have time for this. I cannot afford to be incapacitated for five days! What if something happens, some new development, while  _ she _ knows I am unable to retaliate. And if I repress it, I will be sluggish for the next month, hard pressed to respond to new developments!”

“Wyrm.” Mother lays both hands over one of the wyrm’s, and he looks up. “You are worrying too much. Even though you are the king, the responsibility of protecting the kingdom does not fall solely on your shoulders. For the five days, the dreamers and I will be able to respond effectively to any moves made by her, and if any physical threats emerge, the Five Great Knights are more than capable of handling it.”

“I… suppose you are right.”

“Wyrm. The kingdom will not be destroyed if you are not micro-managing it for five days.”

“Micro- I do not micro-manage!” Father sputtered. Mother was so much better at calming Father down when he got in a frenzy like that. They couldn’t help but wonder what their parents meant when they said the king would be ‘incapacitated’.

“So, Hollow…” Father wrung his hands, each pair minutely moving. “This is the time of Wyrmtide. Each culture tends to have their own celebration of spring, and for Hallownest… this is it. It is a five day celebration of… me. Specifically, of when I shed my Wyrm body for this one. Some spend these days in fervent prayer, others in debauchery. For other gods, one would look forward to such a time of worship. However, as wyrms were created from pure worship, experiencing such a glut of reverence causes my mind to… regress to a state of instinct. I- wait. Why… why am I explaining this to you? You have no mind. I will pay no attention to you. You do not even have the capability to care.”

It stings a little, Father’s acknowledgment of their emptiness. It shouldn’t. That is simply how things are. But it does.

Father runs his hands over his face looking oddly defeated and vulnerable. Hollow feels like they are… intruding on a personal moment. The king crosses the room, locks his bedroom door, and flops down on his bed. “If someone calls you, unlock the door and lock it behind you.” Father’s voice is slightly muffled by the blanket. “And now, the waiting game begins.”

Hollow comes back to themself with a start. Something is off about the room. They can’t see Father immediately, which- maybe he left the room? But the amount of soul in the room says otherwise. A shiver runs down their back as a breeze tickles the back of their neck.

Wait, this room is airtight.

Hollow slammed into the floor as a weight dropped on their back. Six hands and a tail scrambled to pin them and they tried to move onto their back. Why was Father attacking them? Their horns slammed into their father’s head, and his grip loosened just enough for them to flip themself over. Father’s black eyes stared down at them, but something about their gaze was off. Too… hostile. The wyrm’s tail tightened around them- and the wyrm is upside down. His back is towards their stomach, wings draped over their torso. The circle of his crown is pointed towards them, showcasing his gaping maw filled with rows and rows of serrated teeth. His neck is bent at an unnatural ninety degree angle, so he can stare at them while facing the ceiling, like he would have… as a Wyrm. This must have been what he was talking about earlier. But Father said that he would ignore them, and this is certainly not ignoring them. But Father is never wrong! 

Their thoughts are interrupted by the wyrm’s sharp teeth descending towards their neck. They crane their head back, trying to escape his maw, but their horns knock into the floor, preventing them from tilting their head back to any meaningful degree. Hot, soul-filled breath washes over their chin. Slowly, many thin, barbed tentacles slink out of the king’s mouth, and they struggle, trying to break out of his grip. They can feel the void inside them quickening, and their chest starts heaving in breaths. The tongues descended to their neck, one wrapping around it and pressing its sharp end into their shell menacingly, while the others drag their blades tips across their clavicle, easily breaking the hardened void and dipping into the purified void that makes up their body. Small tendrils of void lashed out from the wounds, seeking out the soul teased at them so. The wings slightly fluttered, their gentle touch causing them to flinch.

The wyrm sat back up, his torso digging into their stomach. His tail tightened and loosened around their legs, the chitin making a whispering sound against their shell. Heat simmers low in their abdomen. Father hisses quietly, and his hands tightened around their shoulders. Something slick pressed at their hip, and he shifts a bit more. They feel sparks explode in their torso as what they assume is their father’s tentacle licks against their opening. 

They arch into the wyrm’s body as the tentacle squirms into their slit, and go lax when it bottoms out. It slowly wraps around theirs-  _ oh _ \- and they think to themself that this is so much better than when he is asleep. Father is masterful at this, sly flicks and strokes wringing every drop of pleasure out of them. It curls around theirs and squeezes, quickly moving up and down. Clumsily, they try to reciprocate, wrapping their own length around his, but it incites the wyrm to move faster. The writhe underneath him, becoming unaware of everything except where Father was inside them.

They couldn’t tell you how long it had been when the wyrm finally released their overstimulated tentacle, plunging deeper into their slit once, twice, and releasing those marble things again.

He stills on top of them, but they shiver with delight. This time, they focus on the marbles, ensuring not one of them was absorbed, but instead stored carefully deep inside their body, so that they’d have a piece of him forever. With this thought, their vision whites out, and fades into black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw the porn you wrote for fun at 2 am is longer than anything you've written for school

They wonder how long it’s been. The last time the chains had been long enough for them to reach the tablet, it had been a little over two years. They were pretty sure that they had spent more time in the Black Egg than growing up. On the anniversary of their hatching, Father had written a long, rambly message that filled up all of the space on the large tablet, and… it was almost like having him next to them, gently explaining some concept they didn’t understand. The kingdom seemed to be doing well. They are glad.

They were wrong, before, when they thought that they’d have plenty of time to sleep in the Black Egg. Sure, at first, the Radiance had been easy to keep contained, as wounded as she was. But then she became strategic. Conserving her strength, licking her wounds. The first time she pulled them into a dream realm, they were so shocked she almost bested them. Then she bided her time until she was strong enough to attack again. And again. And again. The reprieve between attacks grew shorter as she healed, and eventually they could feel her fluttering around inside their shell, even when she wasn’t battling them. Each time she used her power, the chains reflexively yanked on them, pulling them closer in case the seals of binding needed to be activated again. It could have been years of torture that got them to the point of halfway suspended off the ground, knees splayed beneath them. It was very uncomfortable, but then again, so was caging the Radiance.

A brief searing pain was all the warning they got before being yanked into yet another battle. They knew she chose this stage because it set them on more equal footing, because she’s too much of a coward to face them in the real world. Their eyes swept over the yellow clouds, searching for that vile being, but she hid herself cleverly. Was she making them start the fight? Usually she was all too eager, jumping in with summoned lances and weak sunbeams. They paced around the small arena, searing for hide or hair of the moth. 

Fabric-like wings wrapped around their arms, and lances spring out of the ground. They try to spin around, but the points of the imagined weapons teased dangerously at their joints. They fight still, as more weapons appear to try and pin them in place. It involves a struggle from the Radiance herself, wrapping mothwing around their limbs to keep them still. She truly must have worn them out in the last few fights if she was able to sneak up and trap them so easily. But they will get the upper hand. They always do.

“Hello there,  _ Vessel _ .” The Radiance spat out the world like it burned her. They tried to tune out her nonsensical ramblings as they looked for an out. They didn’t have much soul- the Egg only gave them enough to keep them alive, so any excess was gleaned from their fights with her. Summoning nails or focusing could lead to a dangerous deficit of soul, and they didn’t want to test if the Egg would top them up. “...I say, what wouldst the wyrm think! He wouldst  _ despise _ thee!”

They would have rolled their eyes if they could. Name-dropping their Father to try and get a reaction, they were trained better than that. “Thee tooketh advantage of him! His owneth spawn! Oh, he wouldst beest destroyed by the knowledge! I’m almost impressed! Not by thy p'rv'rsion, but i wouldst has't nev'r bethought of such a delicious punishment f'r the usurp'r”

She fluttered closer, her cloak-like wings settling on their shoulders. “Thee  _ rap'd _ him! That creature trusted thee, his progeny, and thee  _ rap'd  _ him. Twice! Thee tooketh advantage of him while he wast sleeping, and at which hour his mind wast clouded- he putteth his  _ eggs _ in thee! Thee madeth him putteth  _ eggs _ in thee! His owneth spawn! And yet, thee claimeth to beest the hero.”

They struggled, uncomfortable with how close the Radiance was getting. Their breathing quickened, and they felt slimy cold drip down in the pit of the abdomen. Her nails pressed into their shell, but it was strong enough not to crack just yet.

Okay, scrap worrying about soul. They needed out, and they needed out yesterday. Soul burgeoned inside them feeling crisp and clean, washing away their anxiety. Soul blasted out across the platform, distracting the Radiance and causing the nail to loosen. They quickly jumped away, already thinking of ways to turn the tables, but even more nails flashed into existence all around them, biting into every inch of bare shell. 

“Do  _ not  _ do that again,  _ larvae _ ,” she hissed. The nails around their neck pressed in, some of them hissing as their shell finally cracked under the onslaught. 

“Thou art weak. Far too weak to holdeth me. Thee may has't delayed me, but mine own taketh ov'r is inevitable. Hallownest shall beest mineth. And thee…” She started touching them again, wings feather-light. They tried to crane away, but there was nowhere to go. “Thee shall becometh the epicent'r. What wast meanteth to beest a cage shall becometh the bastion of mine own pow'r. Those seals on the door shall preventeth that foul pale creature from disrupting me. P'rhaps, at which hour Hallownest is on its lasteth legs, that pretendeth'r protecting the lasteth of his people, I shall sendeth thee out. Thee shall killeth thy fath'r. But first, I bethink, I shalt bid him what thee didst to him. Shall not that beest nice? To completely shatt'r his mind bef're breaking his corpse?”

She laughs, a sinister thing that creeps up their spine like some foul flukemarm. They start gathering soul, but the nails stab further into their neck, causing liquid void to drip down their cloak. There’s only one way out now.  _ Wake up! _ They think to themself, closing their eyes and trying to block out the Radiance.  _ Wake up, wake up, wake up! _

Slowly, agonizingly, their physical eyes open. They’re suspended in their air from the chains, the seal of binding is flaring white around them, and void is dripping from both their eyeholes and around their neck.

“Oh nay thee do not,” the Radiance hissed, and they were slammed back into the dream realm. Their body ached and their shell felt scalded from the sudden re-entry. 

“Now, as I wast saying… thee shall beest the p'rfect fighter f'r mine own causeth. All I has't to do… is get rid of any traceth of that slimy pretender. Including…” they could hear the smirk in her voice. “Those eggs.”

She started petting their crotch, touches agonizing. They tried to suck their body in, to get away from her. Their shell felt over sensitive from the pain, and wherever she touched them made them feel revolted. They didn’t want to be here. They didn’t want to do this. They closed their eyes, desperately praying that she would disappear. 

“Awww, art thee praying to thy fath'r? Don’t thee know…  _ wyrm’s don’t answ'r prayeth'rs. _ ” Their chest heaved, causing the nails to dig into their shell. Liquid void tears dropped down their face, hissing as it made contact with the blades. They didn’t want this. And yet… their slit slowly gave way under the moth’s heavy-handed strokes, reacting on instinct and pressure alone. They heaved another sob. Their body was alway under their control, alway bent to their whims, but now, when they needed it the most, it betrayed them.

“Th’re we go,” she cooed. “Now, wh’re art they?” 

The wings invaded their pocket, brushing callously against their appendage. This is no bad no bad  _ no bad no no no disgusting no no _ . Their body felt numb, and their mind felt cottony. If they just let go, they could leave their body behind. They could not exist in this moment.

The Radiance slapped them. 

“Backeth with me,  _ sweetie _ ? Good.” Her voice was sticky sweet with venom. “Ah, th’re we art.”

They sobbed as they felt the marbles move. They tried to suck them into their body, but for some reason, they couldn’t. Her wings scooped them out, and a few  _ clacked _ onto the stone below them. Her wings ravaged them, with no purpose other than to get the eggs out. It hurt how she scraped against their walls. 

It seemed to go on forever, each moment agonizing in the worst possible way. Long after all of the marbles had left their body, she continued to press into them. This was it. She won. The Radiance won.

They sobbed, eyes long drained of tears. There was nothing left of their Father inside them. The Radiance had conquered them. They lost. They had failed. They had failed their Father. They cried, leaning back into the nails, no longer caring if they lived or died. They didn’t deserve life. They  _ failed _ their only purpose.

They couldn’t hear it over their despair, but a crack slowly crept up from their eye, splitting their shell. In the physical world, Orange infection began to mix in with their tears. Their head raised, and the Radiance screamed her victory.


End file.
